I loved her.
I still do.
And maybe I always will.
But at a certain point, I felt something I had never allowed myself to feel before:
no matter how deep the love was… it would not make me happy.
The decision came somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s.
Not with a bang.
But like a slow, irreversible knowing.
I told her honestly what I felt:
“It’s like being in a relationship with someone you deeply love,
and yet sensing that something doesn’t align inside.
As if I know you’ll never truly be able to make me happy —
not because you’re not enough,
but because I finally feel who I really am.”
I gave her an example to explain:
“Imagine a man who loves his wife dearly,
but realizes he’s actually drawn to men.
He could stay out of love,
but he’d lose himself.”
That’s what it felt like for me.
Not about gender,
but about inner truth.
What she could offer me — as precious as it was —
no longer resonated with the part of me I had just discovered.
She said she would find a solution.
That the year was still young.
That we still had chances.
And I let her.
Not because I doubted,
but out of respect.
Because I wanted to do this gently.
Humanely.
In the meantime, I started taking responsibility.
I explored options, spoke to an accountant,
looked for ways to split the business honestly and clearly.
But things started to shift.
The accountant stopped replying.
The notary went silent.
And I knew: something was happening.
Still, I waited.
Not out of fear,
but out of dignity.
Mon Mec had sent me a New Year’s message.
One line that hit me deep in the chest:
“We’ll have to learn to live with the fact that we’ll never see each other again.”
He said “we.”
Not “you’ll have to live with it.”
But we.
And in that one word…
there was softness.
Recognition.
Everything.
I kept sending the occasional message.
Not to cling.
Just to say:
“I’m still here.”
He didn’t reply.
But he read them.
And that was enough.
The line remained open.
At home, we still slept in the same bed.
We even went to couple’s therapy.
But I felt it:
we were still physically close,
but not emotionally connected anymore.
And then it happened.
“You’ve been lying to me for years.
I’ve hired a lawyer. The accountant’s been informed. Everything will be settled.”
And I knew:
that was the signal.
The storm.
I contacted the notary.
Requested a meeting.
And I understood:
this wasn’t an attack.
It was a decision.
Finally… for myself.
Reflection
The hardest choices aren’t the ones where love has faded,
but the ones where love still lives —
and yet, staying would mean losing yourself.
This wasn’t rejection.
It was recognition.
A boundary, quietly drawn inside.
Choosing to step away while still loving someone
is perhaps the purest form of loyalty to your own truth.
Psychological insight
In relationships where emotional connection remains
but the inner compass shifts,
there is often a deep conflict between the will to preserve the bond
and the need for personal integrity.
People with strong empathic tendencies — often called super-empaths —
are known to over-give,
to downplay their own needs,
and to adapt endlessly to keep peace.
On the other side,
partners with unresolved fears of abandonment
can begin to tighten control —
not always consciously,
but as a way to survive perceived instability.
This dynamic — empathy versus control —
is a frequent pattern in relationships where emotional safety is eroding.
And then comes the realization:
love alone is no longer enough
if the relationship constantly silences your own voice.
That awareness is not selfishness.
It is emotional maturity.
And sometimes, it is survival.
Spiritual view
Love is often mistaken for staying at all costs.
But the truest form of love is honesty.
Sometimes love means staying.
Sometimes it means letting go.
Not out of anger.
But out of reverence —
for what was, and for what can no longer be.
When two soul paths begin to diverge,
it’s not the end.
It’s a transition.
A soft release into coherence.
Letting go out of love
isn’t failure.
It is a sacred thank you
to what has been —
and a quiet welcome
to what is becoming.
Closing line
You can love someone with all your heart — and still know that you have to let them go to not lose yourself.